Becoming
by BlackWingedTraveler
Summary: Learning to be a Grey Warden is more difficult than it seems. Andras-centric, Awakening prequel.


**Title:** Becoming

 **Summary:** Learning to be a Grey Warden is more difficult than it seems. Andras-centric, Awakening prequel.

* * *

Everything _hurt_. There was fire flowing through me, burning every piece of me inside, and I beat at myself with my hands, trying desperately to put it out.

Nothing happened, and I moaned, taking another step forward, one leg dragging behind me. It _hurt,_ more than just the fire that caught me – I had cut it on something and it bled, sluggish and useless. My vision was swimming, dark spots flickering across it, the light going in and out.

Was it day? Was it night? I couldn't tell, couldn't even lift my head to tell. I just focused on the ground – step, drag, step, drag.

It didn't matter where I was going – I just needed to get away from those creatures.

Time had passed – or perhaps it hadn't. They had emerged from the ground with screams, terrible creatures that were the stuff of nightmares. The master's son had charged them with a sword and a bellow, but I hadn't seen how that battle went. Mother had grabbed me, yanked me to the wagon, and hid me.

I remember her, remember her-

Wobbling on my good leg and balancing with my sword, I stopped and promptly wretched all over the ground, my porridge from what seemed like another life spewing all over. It was gross, putrid in the back of my throat, but not like-

I wretched, and continued walking.

Breathing was hard – I couldn't feel my lungs, or maybe I could. They just burned every time I took in air, just like the rest of me. Maybe it was day time; I was hot. Or maybe that was because I was on fire…

I couldn't tell anymore.

Everything was monotone, going grey and dark but the _burning_ within and what could I even-

I knew that type of scream. It was the _things_ that came out of the ground. My head finally lifted, staring to the east, where noise had come from, too close.

They were there. Moving and blending in enough that I couldn't count them, but _they were there._ Fighting people, too, attacking them like before, and my grey vision was interrupted by _red_.

The sword I held – previously leaving a large furrow in the ground behind me as I dragged it with one hand – was hefted into both hands, and I staggered underneath the weight for a moment as I rested it on my shoulder. There was no way running was going to happen, not between my own sluggishness and how _heavy_ the sword was.

So I plowed forward, step by uneasy step, as the sword pressed against my collarbone hard enough to bruise and to _hurt_ , but I had to _help._ I couldn't let them fight alone, couldn't let them die, not again.

I was close. The people were saying things – maybe to me, maybe to the creatures, maybe to each other – but I couldn't understand. Not over the screams of the creatures and not when I had my eyes on a specific one that I was creeping up towards.

 _It_ was close. With a heave, I let out a cry and shoved the sword off my shoulder and _yanked_ it forward so it swung, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until it hit resistance. I watched with wide eyes, tears beginning to stream down my face, as the creature _screamed_ when the blade bit into its flesh and blood surged outwards, spraying into my face.

The blade slowed and I sobbed, leaning into it and pushing further and _watching_ as the blade sliced diagonally through the creature, starting at the shoulder and cutting through the rest of its body. It didn't last forever – the creature's cry cutting off as it sliced cleanly in half – and the sword and I plunged forward until the tip of it hit the ground, embedding itself within.

I hovered there for a moment, held upright by only the sword, before my grip slackened and I slid off, landing on the creature with an ominous squelch of blood and flesh.

My face resting on its chest, I dimly noticed my leg was bleeding more than before. Bigger, though, was the scent that filled my nose, ghastly and horrible and _just like before._

I shoved myself up, promptly threw up again, and was grabbed from behind.

Letting out a _shriek,_ I thrashed in those hands, desperately trying to get away and cling to _the ground the creature the sword_ with my blood-stained fingers. It was to no avail, my feet and my entire body leaving the ground as I was lifted – that just gave me another weapon, though, and I kicked with both legs. The pain in my right leg could be ignored; everything was numb, anyway, even if I could feel my foot connecting with something and the yelp that followed after.

I would live. I refused to die here, refused to give up, and I tried to turn in the hands to bit them to gnaw them off – I had to get free, I had to!

"Maker's breath, elf, stop!" I froze instinctively at the voice that cut through the ringing in my ears – that was a voice of an order, that _every_ city elf knew to stop at, lest they lose their lives or even worse.

It broke the instincts that took hold of me, and I fell limp, realizing the hands were turning gentle and I was being cradled against someone's chest. What was…? I blinked wearily, trying to refocus my grey-toned vision up at the person holding me. All I could make out was a beard – either a dwarf or a shem, then.

I had better be very polite in case it was the latter.

"Please, ser." My voice rasped out of my throat in a _painful_ way, my tears welling up anew as I tried to speak. I couldn't even tell if I was audible. "I d-don't- I don't want to die, ser, please…" A shuddering breath, aching in every way, stopped my plea. I hoped it got through to him – I couldn't, I wouldn't…!

"Ssh, drink this." The beard was close to my face, close enough to touch – but a cup got in between me and the face of my rescuer, pouring something into my mouth. I swallowed reflexively and it _burned._

I cried out – or at least I think I did – thrashing weakly once more, before my grey vision became _green_ and I breathed in the Fade.

* * *

 **A/N:** _This is... sort of an experiment for me. I haven't written in first person in quite awhile, especially this very disconnected way that I'm going for Andras here. This is going to be 10-20 chapters, updating every other Sunday (hopefully, I can keep up with that), and, well... we'll see how it ends up going, yeah? No beta, so hopefully not too much of a trainwreck. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
